“I believe I can,” Joshua said thoughtfully.
“You are the key to our future,” Paul said excitedly.
“I am?”
Paul came up to the bed. “I was going to wait, but now is as good a time as any. I have a proposal for you.”
“What proposal?”
“I humbly beseech you to allow us to come and live at the Home.”
“What?” Joshua, startled, swung his legs over the edge of the bed.
“You heard me.” Paul stared into Joshua’s eyes.
“Are you serious?”
“Absolutely,” Paul stated earnestly.
“But you have lived in the Twin Cities all these years,” Joshua pointed out.
“And hated almost every waking minute of our miserable existence.”
“But the Home isn’t large enough to accommodate all of the First Church members,” Joshua objected.
“I’ve thought of that,” Paul responded. “We could enlarge the Home, couldn’t we? Erect wooden walls and make a new perimeter? You said the soil is fertile and easy to till, and that game is plentiful. We could become pastoral in our lifestyles, become farmers and hunters and live as your Family lives. We could start a new center for mankind’s progress! We could begin a new society, a new culture, and a new hope for mankind!”
Joshua grinned at Paul’s bubbling vitality. “You’ve given this considerable thought.”
“Yes, Brother Joshua, I have. What do you say?”
“It isn’t up to me,” Joshua informed him.
“Oh.”
“Don’t look so downcast,” Joshua said, encouraging him. “The final decision on a matter of this import must come from the entire Family. A vote must be taken, and the Elders must be permitted to express their views.”
“What do you think they will say?” Paul asked hopefully.
“I have no way of knowing,” Joshua admitted.
Paul, dejected, sat down on the bed. “I was so hopeful,” he mumbled.
“You have no reason to be so depressed,” Joshua said. “I haven’t said no. The Family may agree to the idea.”
“You really think so?” Paul brightened.
“We’ll never know unless I return to the Home.”
“And how will you accomplish that?”
Joshua hesitated. Despite his affinity for Paul, he’d wisely withheld telling about the SEAL. There was always the possibility the First Church of the Nazarene might arbitrarily assume possession of the transport if they became aware of its existence. “I will find a way. But first, I must ascertain if my friends have perished. I must return to the site where the Wacks attacked us.”
“I don’t know…”
“I will not return to the Home until I learn the fate of my comrades,” Joshua said. “And you will never have the opportunity to leave the Twin Cities if I do not make it back.”
Paul nodded. “We could assist you in finding your friends. My men found you wandering, almost senseless, near dozens of bodies. They were attracted by the ravens circling overhead. We could take you there, and see if there are any clues as to their fate.”
Joshua smiled, pleased with his subterfuge. “Would you?”
“Of course. I will arrange for it now. Are you up to the exertion required?”
“I won’t have any problem,” Joshua stated. “My head is sore, but beyond that, I’m fine.”
“Good. You can leave in an hour. There is plenty of daylight left.” Paul walked from the room, pausing at the door. “You will take care of yourself?
We can’t allow anything to happen to you.”
“I will take care,” Joshua promised.
Paul nodded and left.
Joshua smiled, surprised at himself. He had deliberately deceived a brother, a fellow son of God. What in the world was happening to him?
First he’d killed. Now he’d lied. What was next? Would he lust after a woman? But his deception was justified, he mentally noted. And he hadn’t lied in every respect. He would go with them to the point where the Wacks had attacked. Then, when an opportunity presented itself, he would sneak away from his escort and find the Porns. It shouldn’t be too terribly difficult. If he headed west, and avoided the Wacks, sooner or later he would meet the Porns. He would convince them to take him to their leader, and he would prevail upon this Maggot to arrange a meeting with Paul. It could be done! Paul was too pessimistic. The Porns couldn’t be that bad! There had to be a glimmer of decency remaining in their jaded souls, and there was only one way to find out.
Joshua smiled.
Hickok would be pleased. This type of devious action was his forte.
Yes, sir! He was really getting the hang of this Warrior business.
Besides, the Spirit would preserve him. What could possibly go wrong?
Chapter Nineteen
If they didn’t kill him soon, the blistering heat would.
Blade tried to avert his eyes from the sun, now directly over his head, at the midday position. Another hot August day was halfway done, another day of baking and sweltering and suffering.
How much longer would they keep him in suspense?
Blade recalled his shock upon awakening after the attack on University Avenue. He had found himself completely naked, tied to four stakes imbedded in the earth, his body spread-eagled, face up. Before him had loomed a large gray structure, six stories in height, with most of the windows broken out, the entire building in disrepair. Twenty feet off the ground, no doubt still intact because it was out of reach, had hung a faded, dirty sign. Some of the letters had been smudged, others missing, but sufficient had remained to inform Blade that he was outside a division of the Minnesota State Hospital, a subbranch called The Minnesota Hospital for the Criminally Insane.
Damn!
For over two days he’d lain there in the open, exposed and vulnerable, waiting for the Wacks to finish him.
Why hadn’t they?
A shadow fell across his face and he squinted up, recognizing Clorg, the Wacks’ leader, a lumbering mass of solid muscle. Clorg wore tattered rags, and his body reeked. Blade doubted the hulking lunatic had taken a bath in his entire life.
Clorg flashed a toothless grin at Blade. “Big Man hungry? Big Man hungry?”
Blade frowned, angry. Clorg came by several dozen times a day to ask questions, to tease him the way a child would tease an adult. He refused to respond.
Clorg drew back his right foot and kicked Blade in the side.
Blade squirmed, pain spinning his vision, the tight ropes around his wrists and his ankles tearing into his flesh. He wondered if he would lose the use of his extremities. Whoever had tied him to the stakes while he was unconscious had done an excellent job. The rope was so secure, so taut, his circulation was almost cut off. His hands and feet were numb.
“Is thirsty? Is thirsty?” Clorg leaned over the captive, leering.
Blade elected to avoid another blow by answering. “I could use some water,” he admitted.
Clorg roared with laughter. “Funny! Funny! Funny!”
If I could just break free, Blade thought, grimacing, I’d throttle your stinking neck!
Another Wack joined them, a weasel of a man with a twitching walk and a missing left ear.
Clorg slapped the newcomer on the arm. “Big Man wants some water!”
The other man grinned. “Does he now?”
Clorg glared down at Blade. “Fant come soon!” he bellowed. “Won’t need water! Won’t need food! Be our food!” He ambled away.
“I’m truly sorry about all this,” said the weasel.
“You are?” Blade’s throat was parched and dry, his tongue swollen. He had to strain to talk.
“Any decent person would be.”
Blade smiled, his dehydrated, split lips stretching in agony. “My name is Blade,” he offered. “What’s yours?”